Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to six nights of sleepless competition! The name of the game is The Ultimate High--the goal, to see which of our 6 challengers can get the highest.--the method: smoke, the material, Tweak, and the winner, the one left standing six days from today and having verifiably consumed by our physicians, the most material! How it works is that each challenger was provided yesterday with $100 cash (to score their shit) , two glass pipes, two bic lighters, one bottle of water, and two half-sticks of chewing gum. For the next 6 days no one will be allowed to personally re-up or score any shit for any other player.
Let's introduce the contenders: T-Weak, (who's game is anything but 'weak'), has already been up for three days and because of that feels he has a jump on this contest. T-weak has a reputation as a free-loader. In fact, he was the original Sponge Bob ("Sponge Bob ain't got shit on me," he boasts, "you better aks somebody!") He is also an acclaimed meth connoisseur, smoking instructor, pipe maker and shameless womanizer. He often informs, "I don't play games--I play bitches." He is usually care-free, at times a loose cannon, and always unstable. But commentators are unanimous in that T-Weak can actually be one of this years toughest "Tweak-petitors." Look for some surprises from this one.
Our next contestant is known around the hood simply as The Thin Reaper--the only competitor here today who has placed in the finals each of the last three years! He's a veteran smoker who's super-natural knack for copping dope at any time, in any neighborhood, makes him a definite force to be reckoned with. His advice to all, "Don't get caught sleepin'!"
Next we have, freshly out of the Emergency Room (at Viejas Casino)--Slim Fast, standing 5'9" and weighing in at a solid 109 llbs. Slim Fast is the defending champ from last year, and the oddsmakers favor Slim Fast to keep the title.
The next Ultimate High challenger is a female, whose friends call her Skimp. Besides being the only broad in this contest, she also brings with her a remarkable resume: 6 consecutive months of borrowing cash from the other contestants. She has more IOU's than minutes on her cell phone. During the interview before the event, she
was adamant about winning tonight--otherwise, without the money for gas--she'd be walking back to the shelter!
Another veteran dope fiend, making his first appearance in this competition, is an African-American smoker named Collide. He's known for smooth talk and large hands. Collide is known for going on runs, crashing hard drives and casually concealing in him palm the very items for which everyone around him may be feverishly searching. He's a threat and he knows it. His reaction to that, (in a voice lower than Barry White's): "I play for keeps"
And finally we have Night Watch--a smoker who advanced to the Ultimate High Finals the last two consecutive years. The most arrogant competitor in this competition, certainly has the stamina to go the distance. He's living proof that you can go through an entire porn collection, consisiting of 500 hours in only 24. He's infamous, a legend in his own mind. To him smoking isn't a crime--it's a way of life. "Sleep," he says, "is for fags! And food is for queers! And all you queers out there, if you can take a dick, you can sure as hell a joke!"
These are the competitors and this is the Prize:
The Winner: A free high from the connect of his choice, a two month supply of Prozak, and the prestigious title of "Tweaker of the Week"
The Runner-up: One month supply of Pedia-Lyte (to rehydrate) and a free psych eval.
The Loser: Fuck 'em
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Monday, October 19, 2009
Walking with the Night
As it rapidly approaches the 3:00am hour each night, I somehow find the wherewithall to pull myself away from whatever "project" I'm tweaking on and focus my vision and thoughts on my best friend--Jaime. He is my Pit Bull and constant companion.
He too has merged with the night and expects, if not demands, a walk to the neighborhood park at 3am, and to be tossed his favorite tennis ball for about an hour until he gets his excercise fill. This is my obligation to him as his master, and good dope, when ingested consistently and with proper respect, should never cause one to dodge responsibilities, but rather fulfill them with a gusto, enthusiasm, zeal and thoroughness not possible by "regulars" (the term I use to describe non-users--it ain't a compliment). Good Dope enhances life, doesn't high-jack it.
Even though the night air is probably brisk, I'm perspiring profusely, but nevertheless must manage to bundle up to give the appearance of a regular. Jaime is so elated, his whole stocky tan and white body seems to twist involuntarily as he jumps about waiting for his collar to be bound. After a few moments of attempting to remember anything that I'm sure I've already forgotten, we leave my Fortresss of Speed and rush into the darkness.
It's drizzling slightly, enough so to explain the constant oily sheen that coats my face, despite any and every effort to wipe it off, dull it with powder or cut it with astringent. That's when you know your product is bomb. With a pep in my step, I was shining like new money!
Most tweakers are too paranoid to leave their window peaking perches in the early evening, let alone at 3:00am. Not Night Watch! It is precisely this audacity, this boldness, that causes cops to glance my way and keep it pushin'. If you experience a heightened sense of paranoia when high, this is a weakness and a sure sign that meth may not be for you and you might want to downgrade to a large espresso every now and again. It's only after inhaling good shit, exhaling a mushroom cloud like the one over Nagasaki, am I able to comfortably look strangers and family directly in the eye, converse candidly with police (if necessary), perform work, attend school, or do any other mundane or complex task. Meth is, quite simply, a "performance enhancing drug, and I'm no different than Barry Bonds.
I tossed the ball so rapidly and ceaselessly, that Jaime was quickly spent. Every night I see a petite little Mexican transexual, a she-man, walking north past the park we go to. It is usuallly always wearin a mini-skirt that wouldn't fit my Chiuahua (got one of those,too). She's obviously working and I'm not mad at her. Hating is not in my nature. I'm just knowin that whatever she's doin, she's doin it smokin' and I wonder from a conissuer's stand point, whose is better. It's common knowledge that faggots love and will pay for the top-of-the-line "queer juice"...
..on second thougnt, what the fuck! Unless he/she thinks sleeping 8 days a month is over-doing it, then neither she or her shit are anywhere close to my level. Just call me O.G. Meth!
He too has merged with the night and expects, if not demands, a walk to the neighborhood park at 3am, and to be tossed his favorite tennis ball for about an hour until he gets his excercise fill. This is my obligation to him as his master, and good dope, when ingested consistently and with proper respect, should never cause one to dodge responsibilities, but rather fulfill them with a gusto, enthusiasm, zeal and thoroughness not possible by "regulars" (the term I use to describe non-users--it ain't a compliment). Good Dope enhances life, doesn't high-jack it.
Even though the night air is probably brisk, I'm perspiring profusely, but nevertheless must manage to bundle up to give the appearance of a regular. Jaime is so elated, his whole stocky tan and white body seems to twist involuntarily as he jumps about waiting for his collar to be bound. After a few moments of attempting to remember anything that I'm sure I've already forgotten, we leave my Fortresss of Speed and rush into the darkness.
It's drizzling slightly, enough so to explain the constant oily sheen that coats my face, despite any and every effort to wipe it off, dull it with powder or cut it with astringent. That's when you know your product is bomb. With a pep in my step, I was shining like new money!
Most tweakers are too paranoid to leave their window peaking perches in the early evening, let alone at 3:00am. Not Night Watch! It is precisely this audacity, this boldness, that causes cops to glance my way and keep it pushin'. If you experience a heightened sense of paranoia when high, this is a weakness and a sure sign that meth may not be for you and you might want to downgrade to a large espresso every now and again. It's only after inhaling good shit, exhaling a mushroom cloud like the one over Nagasaki, am I able to comfortably look strangers and family directly in the eye, converse candidly with police (if necessary), perform work, attend school, or do any other mundane or complex task. Meth is, quite simply, a "performance enhancing drug, and I'm no different than Barry Bonds.
I tossed the ball so rapidly and ceaselessly, that Jaime was quickly spent. Every night I see a petite little Mexican transexual, a she-man, walking north past the park we go to. It is usuallly always wearin a mini-skirt that wouldn't fit my Chiuahua (got one of those,too). She's obviously working and I'm not mad at her. Hating is not in my nature. I'm just knowin that whatever she's doin, she's doin it smokin' and I wonder from a conissuer's stand point, whose is better. It's common knowledge that faggots love and will pay for the top-of-the-line "queer juice"...
..on second thougnt, what the fuck! Unless he/she thinks sleeping 8 days a month is over-doing it, then neither she or her shit are anywhere close to my level. Just call me O.G. Meth!
Friday, October 9, 2009
Interview with a Tweaker
The events that you are about to read are real. It is not fiction, nor is it a dramatization of events that happened previously. It is, very simply, the living, reel-time chronicles of a hard-core methamphetamine addict in the advanced stages of addiction. I am that addict, and you may refer to me as The Night Watchman.
So much of what appears on the web and elsewhere harshly condemns methamphetamine, as well as those who use it, whether moderately or regularly (as is the case with most drugs, except marijuana which seems to be enjoying a new rebirth of acceptability, in California particularly). Well I have decided to stand up for meth. It is not, the most horrific substance ever to be created by man. It is, in fact, a miracle drug, an elixir par excellance, a cure for many of the maladies of modern living! How can I say this? I have personally experimented with it over the last 23 years and have come to appreciate and respect its properties. I have no plan on ever living my life, even for a single day, without the gift of methamphetamine!
Now I am not advocating its' use for everyone, mind you, because quite simply, not everyone can handle it. Like any prescription medication, there are side effects which vary from user to user and in some cases may prohibit a user from enjoying the hundreds of benefits without experiencing some often devastating consequences. But for the rest of us, who experience few of the bad side effects, its as if meth was made for us and we were made for meth.
I will be explaining and backing up these statements over the course of this blog; not all at once, but slowly; and with enough quantatative and measurable examples as to win over any skeptic.
It's early morning now, my 14th day or so without sleep. I feel completely alive and invigorated. Psychologically there is nothing I feel that I cannot do or accomplish, no task too big. Meth's first and greatest benefit is that it has allowed me to conquer time, sleep and, to a lesser degree, the bodies dependence on food.
Have you ever stopped to think what greatness you personally could achieve if you didn't have to waste time sleeping and eating? If you never experienced fatigue? Think how far you might have gotten by now in your career? Meth not only suppresses fatigue, but it also enhances mental acuity and the user's ability to concentrate on any given task (to the exclusion of all else.) Valuable assets for any employee, wouldn't you say? Absolutely. My employers have often wondered why Night Watchman worked through all of his lunch breaks (of course the bathroom breaks compensated for them; bathrooms are the best place to "re-energize" (get high) at work.
For the last 7 hours I've been at my computer--never once during that time having had to look away, get up, stretch, or any other such distracting non-sense. I've systematically accomplished, in that time, several important and useful tasks: 1) I created a MySpace profile to advertise my blog 2) I created 10 music video playlists on YouTube (20 music videos per list) for me to enjoy throughout the coming days and nights, and 3) I played 27 games of Word Whomp on Pogo.com (a game which, when under the "meth-fluence" is an addiction in itself), and finally, I ended the night by writing this blog.
That's what I call productivity.
Of course, I'm thirsty as hell. My mouth is so dry that I could quite probably spit dust! Unrelenting thirst and total dehydration is one of those unavoidable "recreational hazzards" when on meth. I have had a 33 fl ounce bottle of water sitting next to me for the last 12 hours and have been unable to drink it--I vow to finish it today, however. Yes, even thirst can be defyed when empowered by meth---though keeping properly hydrated is an absolute must in maintaining health and mental equilibrium.
In the coming blogs I will teach those of you who like myself are convinced that Meth is the best thing since sliced bread, how to protect your health (kidney, liver, heart) and also your teeth! (After 23 years my teeth are are still right where they are supposed to be, as white as any teeth would naturally be at my age, and functional.) No one ever correctly guesses my age, always picking a number 5 to 10 years younger. So much for the myths of Meth aging.
I'm going to bust a lot of myths in this blog--the writing of which has now allowed me to use some of the extra hours that I have at my disposal , as opposed to those of you who simply sleep your lives away during the night. It's said that you people spend 1/3 of your entire lives ASLEEP. What a waste! Having dispensed with the need for sleep, except for perhaps 5 days a month, it is as though I have already lived twice the life span of a non-meth user, since I maximize the use of both the brightness of day and the darkness and solitude of night.
Within a month you too will be convinced that what we've been taught by society to loathe simply because of the behavior of some tweakers (no doubt mal-adjusted before they began tweaking) is in fact the greatest gift to mankind since our first, distant ancestor discovered the bounty of controlled fire!
So much of what appears on the web and elsewhere harshly condemns methamphetamine, as well as those who use it, whether moderately or regularly (as is the case with most drugs, except marijuana which seems to be enjoying a new rebirth of acceptability, in California particularly). Well I have decided to stand up for meth. It is not, the most horrific substance ever to be created by man. It is, in fact, a miracle drug, an elixir par excellance, a cure for many of the maladies of modern living! How can I say this? I have personally experimented with it over the last 23 years and have come to appreciate and respect its properties. I have no plan on ever living my life, even for a single day, without the gift of methamphetamine!
Now I am not advocating its' use for everyone, mind you, because quite simply, not everyone can handle it. Like any prescription medication, there are side effects which vary from user to user and in some cases may prohibit a user from enjoying the hundreds of benefits without experiencing some often devastating consequences. But for the rest of us, who experience few of the bad side effects, its as if meth was made for us and we were made for meth.
I will be explaining and backing up these statements over the course of this blog; not all at once, but slowly; and with enough quantatative and measurable examples as to win over any skeptic.
It's early morning now, my 14th day or so without sleep. I feel completely alive and invigorated. Psychologically there is nothing I feel that I cannot do or accomplish, no task too big. Meth's first and greatest benefit is that it has allowed me to conquer time, sleep and, to a lesser degree, the bodies dependence on food.
Have you ever stopped to think what greatness you personally could achieve if you didn't have to waste time sleeping and eating? If you never experienced fatigue? Think how far you might have gotten by now in your career? Meth not only suppresses fatigue, but it also enhances mental acuity and the user's ability to concentrate on any given task (to the exclusion of all else.) Valuable assets for any employee, wouldn't you say? Absolutely. My employers have often wondered why Night Watchman worked through all of his lunch breaks (of course the bathroom breaks compensated for them; bathrooms are the best place to "re-energize" (get high) at work.
For the last 7 hours I've been at my computer--never once during that time having had to look away, get up, stretch, or any other such distracting non-sense. I've systematically accomplished, in that time, several important and useful tasks: 1) I created a MySpace profile to advertise my blog 2) I created 10 music video playlists on YouTube (20 music videos per list) for me to enjoy throughout the coming days and nights, and 3) I played 27 games of Word Whomp on Pogo.com (a game which, when under the "meth-fluence" is an addiction in itself), and finally, I ended the night by writing this blog.
That's what I call productivity.
Of course, I'm thirsty as hell. My mouth is so dry that I could quite probably spit dust! Unrelenting thirst and total dehydration is one of those unavoidable "recreational hazzards" when on meth. I have had a 33 fl ounce bottle of water sitting next to me for the last 12 hours and have been unable to drink it--I vow to finish it today, however. Yes, even thirst can be defyed when empowered by meth---though keeping properly hydrated is an absolute must in maintaining health and mental equilibrium.
In the coming blogs I will teach those of you who like myself are convinced that Meth is the best thing since sliced bread, how to protect your health (kidney, liver, heart) and also your teeth! (After 23 years my teeth are are still right where they are supposed to be, as white as any teeth would naturally be at my age, and functional.) No one ever correctly guesses my age, always picking a number 5 to 10 years younger. So much for the myths of Meth aging.
I'm going to bust a lot of myths in this blog--the writing of which has now allowed me to use some of the extra hours that I have at my disposal , as opposed to those of you who simply sleep your lives away during the night. It's said that you people spend 1/3 of your entire lives ASLEEP. What a waste! Having dispensed with the need for sleep, except for perhaps 5 days a month, it is as though I have already lived twice the life span of a non-meth user, since I maximize the use of both the brightness of day and the darkness and solitude of night.
Within a month you too will be convinced that what we've been taught by society to loathe simply because of the behavior of some tweakers (no doubt mal-adjusted before they began tweaking) is in fact the greatest gift to mankind since our first, distant ancestor discovered the bounty of controlled fire!
Friday, October 2, 2009
The Tweak Before Christmas
'Twas the tweak before Christmas, and still haven’t slept
dopefiends in my living room, what do you expect?
Tired of lookin’ at ‘em, so it’s time to go,
lock ‘em out, ignore the phone, and pop in a porno;
Girls Gone Wild across the screen,
Ho, ho, ho’s--- one hell of a scene!
Pulled out the sack to load a fresh bowl,
4 days without food is takin’ it’s toll,
I swerve to the counter to search for a lighter
Here we go again-- another all-nighter;
Resuming normal program, the night watch begins,
So goddamned high, the shit never ends;
Blowin’ up my phone, all these bitches who dissed me,
now I have a sack, all of a sudden they miss me!
Without warning there comes a loud knock at my door,
I shout, “who the hell is it, and what the hell for?”
“It’s the connect” he shouted, loud and clear,
I called him 3 days ago, and finally he’s here.
I threw open the door and yelled, “what took you so long?”
He was so fucked up, he was singing a song.
“You gotta fast car…,” was the line he repeated,
While riffling through pockets, unable to stay seated.
I offered him water, he looked he could use it,
He never even touched it, but kept humming his music;
I told him, “The shit better be good, and worth the wait”
“Don’t trip,” he mumbled, “this shit will set you straight.”
It took him 15 more minutes before he found the right pouch,
Everything but the shit was spread out on my couch.
At last he broke out with the dope he called “Blue”,
“Don’t hit it too hard,” he warned, “It’ll turn you out, too.”
I grabbed the pipe from his hand
And took a big hit,
And then I started singing “It’s too legit to quit.”
He had ‘the bomb’, so we finished the deal,
He served me up fat, he was keepin’ it real.
Before I knew it 3 hours would pass
Him tweaking on gadgets, me blowing new glass.
In the dead of winter, as cold as it can get,
Me and this motherfucker were covered in sweat;
“I gotta go,” he said, “slingin’ shit pays,
“I got fools waiting for me goin’ on 4 days,”
It took another hour before he was ready to bounce,
and when he was gone, he’d forgotten his ounce!
Out the door in a hurry, cuz I knew he’d be back,
Fuck that motherfucker, I came up on a sack !
So this Christmas season will definitely be fun,
Everyone I know will be turned out and spun!
dopefiends in my living room, what do you expect?
Tired of lookin’ at ‘em, so it’s time to go,
lock ‘em out, ignore the phone, and pop in a porno;
Girls Gone Wild across the screen,
Ho, ho, ho’s--- one hell of a scene!
Pulled out the sack to load a fresh bowl,
4 days without food is takin’ it’s toll,
I swerve to the counter to search for a lighter
Here we go again-- another all-nighter;
Resuming normal program, the night watch begins,
So goddamned high, the shit never ends;
Blowin’ up my phone, all these bitches who dissed me,
now I have a sack, all of a sudden they miss me!
Without warning there comes a loud knock at my door,
I shout, “who the hell is it, and what the hell for?”
“It’s the connect” he shouted, loud and clear,
I called him 3 days ago, and finally he’s here.
I threw open the door and yelled, “what took you so long?”
He was so fucked up, he was singing a song.
“You gotta fast car…,” was the line he repeated,
While riffling through pockets, unable to stay seated.
I offered him water, he looked he could use it,
He never even touched it, but kept humming his music;
I told him, “The shit better be good, and worth the wait”
“Don’t trip,” he mumbled, “this shit will set you straight.”
It took him 15 more minutes before he found the right pouch,
Everything but the shit was spread out on my couch.
At last he broke out with the dope he called “Blue”,
“Don’t hit it too hard,” he warned, “It’ll turn you out, too.”
I grabbed the pipe from his hand
And took a big hit,
And then I started singing “It’s too legit to quit.”
He had ‘the bomb’, so we finished the deal,
He served me up fat, he was keepin’ it real.
Before I knew it 3 hours would pass
Him tweaking on gadgets, me blowing new glass.
In the dead of winter, as cold as it can get,
Me and this motherfucker were covered in sweat;
“I gotta go,” he said, “slingin’ shit pays,
“I got fools waiting for me goin’ on 4 days,”
It took another hour before he was ready to bounce,
and when he was gone, he’d forgotten his ounce!
Out the door in a hurry, cuz I knew he’d be back,
Fuck that motherfucker, I came up on a sack !
So this Christmas season will definitely be fun,
Everyone I know will be turned out and spun!
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